The Charm Runner (Broken Throne Book 1)
Page 1
Table of Contents
The Charm Runner
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Table of Contents
The Charm Runner
Copyright
The Charm Runner
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Epilogue
Want to Know What Happens Next?
How Did it all Begin?
About the Author
The Charm Runner
by Jamie Davis
Copyright © 2017 by Sterling & Stone, LLC. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
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CHAPTER 1
Winnie brushed a long strand of coco-colored hair back behind her ear as she concentrated on the hammer, holding it in one hand while using the other to manipulate the magic, flowing until it matched the pattern in her mind. Once done, she tied off the strands, looked up at her customer with a smile, and handed him the simple carpenter’s hammer.
Winnie punched the total into her register. “That’ll be $4.99, Mr. Wilson.”
Mr. Wilson’s eyes moved from the total to Winnie. “And it will never miss the nail?”
“Nope, and I added a force component to the charm so it should hit the nail flush with the wood in a single strike. You’ll be the fastest carpenter in Baltimore.”
“Thank you, Winnie. You’re the best. Glad I got in here before the Resolution passes. I don’t know what I’d do without your charmed tools in my box.” Mr. Wilson, leaving Charmed with a smile like always, turned to make his way through the crowd.
“Don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere,” she called after him. “Resolution 84 will never pass.”
Winnie sighed and greeted the next customer. The announcer on the small television behind the counter covered the Assembly hearings live while she worked.
“Nils Kane, Director of the Department of Magical Containment, testified before the Assembly’s membership earlier today, calling for the passage of Resolution 84 in order to protect the people from what he called the ‘insidious effects of prolonged magic use and proximity to charmed items on the human body.’ The Director said that every use of magic leads to the eventual use of the Sable trade, the dark magic currently against the law in the United Americas. Kane took tough questions from opposition members supporting a more moderate approach in stride, putting them in their place … ”
Winnie shook her head. There was no way the Assembly would outlaw the use of basic magic or simple charmed items. That would turn the United Americas into a nation of outlaws. Everybody owned and used simple charms. She looked about her simple housewares store. Charmed was one of the Enclave’s most popular shops, and she had many repeat customers who bought her magically enhanced appliances, utensils, and tools to make their lives a little easier. While most middlings — any person who didn’t possess inherent magical skills — looked down on chanters like Winnie, her mom, and the others who made the Enclave their home, she’d always thought her customers were her friends and treated her like anyone else.
Winnie looked at the packed shop and the line up to the counter. Everyone held a charmed item from the shelves or a mundane object from home they wanted her to charm for a specific task. It was what she did, and Winnie couldn’t see small, harmless shops like hers put out of business by new anti-magic regulations. She simply needed to pay her fees and taxes, and tolerate escalating inspections from the Red Legs — the enforcers who monitored stores like hers to make sure she didn’t deal in illegal items that crossed into the Sable trade. If she stayed within the law, then everything would be fine.
The woman in front of her held up a glass mixing bowl and whisk. “Will this need recharging? I don’t want to purchase an automatic cake mixer if I can’t get the magic recharged after the Resolution passes, Winnie.”
“You know better than that, Mrs. Johnson. Our charms are always guaranteed. If it ever stops working, bring it back here and we’ll fix it right up for you.”
“Winnie dear, aren’t you listening to the news? The magical temperance movement has won. The assembly is voting tonight, and they are going to outlaw all magic. The Red Legs will arrest me if I try bringing something back for a recharge.” Terror at being held by the Department of Magical Containment’s security goons lit the woman’s eyes.
“I promise you, Mrs. Johnson … ” Winnie raised her voice and added a volume charm with a flick of her wrist so that everyone in the packed shop could hear her. “I promise all of you. Our shop sells quality magical goods that will work for as long as you own them. Resolution 84 will never pass. I’ll still be here, open for business tomorrow.”
Winnie relaxed the charm on her voice, then punched a few keys on the ancient mechanical register. Her mother
had insisted on using it ever since she’d opened the shop when Winnie was a child.
“That will be $7.25 for the bowl and the whisk, Mrs. Johnson.” Winnie held out her hand while the woman counted out bills from her purse, then made change from the cash drawer. She handed it back to the woman and placed the items inside a paper bag.
The woman leaned in and whispered, “Too bad you don’t offer calorie reduction charms on your mixers. I’d buy even more.”
Winnie shook her head and leaned over the counter to whisper back. “That’s forbidden, Mrs. Johnson. You know that. We don’t deal in the Sable trade here — you’ll never catch me selling magic that directly affects a human being. It eats away at you. It harms the chanter who casts the spell, too.”
“It’s a shame, dear. Your magic is good enough, and you’d make so much more money than you ever could with all these simple household artifacts. A moot point now, I suppose — the Assembly is ending it all tonight.” A pure sadness seemed to swallow Mrs. Johnson’s eyes. She forced a smile and added, “You take care of yourself, dearie.”
Winnie shook her head, watching Mrs. Johnson turn around and walk away, slowly making her way through the bustling throng. The law was clear. Resolution 35 clearly stated that no charmed item could be magically enhanced to directly affect or enhance a living being. That had been the law since before Winnie was born, passed over sixty years ago.
In all her eighteen years, she’d never cast a charm to violate that law. Mother had forbidden teaching her even the older charms that could use it, although now her abilities had reached a point where she could see how the flows could be manipulated to affect a person. It would have been easy to make it so that any items prepared in Mrs. Johnson’s bowl had fewer calories when served. But that was wrong and Winnie wasn’t a criminal.
She and her mother earned a decent income working the shop. Even after the draconian licenses purchased to certify their merchandise and endless inspections from the Red Legs, they made enough to live a comfortable life. Sure, she and her mother were confined to living in the Enclave — the sanctioned area of Baltimore where all chanters were required to live. Every city in the Americas had an area (or ghetto, Winnie thought) like the Enclave. It was how the middlings kept track of the minority of humans able to manipulate the flows of magic; it was how the Assembly made sure that magic was used safely by all. The TV seemed to get louder behind her as Director Kane continued his testimony.
“ … The continued use of magic is damaging our cities beyond repair. We must consider how many people suffer from the Sable trade and understand that every chanter out there is using their inhuman power to gain control of us all. We must seize this opportunity to stamp out the use of magic for all but the most necessary tasks sanctioned and controlled by the government.”
Winnie looked at screen and the politician in the video feed. Nils Kane was an unassuming man when you looked at him, average in most every way. His short brown hair, slicked back with some sort of gel product so it glistened for the cameras, framed his face with its ever-present and always disarming smile. He looked like a favorite uncle or neighbor, but the man always spewed such hateful and erroneous things about her community that Winnie easily saw him for the power-grabbing bully he was.
Nils Kane thought that all chanters were untrustworthy at best and evil at worst. For years, he’d been driving hard to make it so that magic could only be used to maintain the country’s public works and grand buildings where magic was integral to the structures themselves. He would allow the use of magic by Charm Techs like her friend Tris. Under strict supervision, such techs could be trusted to maintain the buildings.
Kane believed that this was the only way to avoid becoming the wasteland that Europe had become after the chanters rose up and tried to wrestle control from the government. The extreme use of magic had destroyed much of the land there, and now it could no longer grow even the hardiest of plants. The following famine had turned much of the old country into a third world nation.
Kane thought the barren lands around the cities in the United Americas were proof that the Chanters were trying to do the same thing here, and he used that artificial truth to whip the magical temperance movement into a frenzy. From his position of power in the Philadelphia capital, Kane sought to control all magic.
Winnie thought he was quite possibly the most evil man in the country, probably because he made everything he proposed for the control of magic seem so harmless and downright logical.
The gentleman at the counter cleared his throat to pull Winnie’s attention away from the TV. He was holding a bicycle pump in his hand, and shaking it in front of her face.
“How can I help you, sir?”
“The description on the shelf says this will pump up a bicycle tire in thirty seconds. Will it work on a car?”
“Yes, sir, though it will take a bit longer than thirty seconds,” Winnie explained. “Just attach the air hose and raise and lower the pump handle once. It will keep going on its own until the proper inflation pressure is reached. We promise that it will never overinflate.”
The man raised his eyebrows. “How does it know?”
“How does it know what?”
“How does it know when the tire is inflated to the right pressure?”
“Ah, now that’s the magic,” Winnie said with a smile. “Take it home and try — if you’re not satisfied then bring it back and I’ll refund your money. Everything in Charmed comes with a 100 percent money back guarantee.”
“Fat lot of good that will do me when you’re out of business tomorrow morning.”
“Too many people like you use magic safely every day for them to turn us all into outlaws overnight.”
“So you say.” The man dug into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, withdrew a few bills, then handed them to Winnie and waited for change.
“I’d stake my business on it.” Winnie handed him a handful of coins. “Have a good day, sir. And please, come back soon.”
The man muttered something she couldn’t hear, grabbed his pump from the counter, and walked to the door.
The line had tripled in length, and more customers were flooding the store. She’d have to stay open late. Winnie hoped her mother didn’t need anything at home. Her mother’s rheumatoid arthritis made it so she could no longer work in the shop, so she stayed home most of the time, sitting in her chair with her eyes bolted to the TV. She could still see the flows as well any chanter, but her twisted, aching hands could now only manipulate them for the simplest tasks.
Winnie thought about how she’d support her mother if the insanity of Resolution 84 came to pass. Her medicine was expensive, especially since her position as a single, self-employed shop owner turned health insurance into a mandatory luxury. She had to pay for the medicine out of pocket at full cost. It was their greatest expense each month, higher than even the rent.
Winnie continued waiting on her customers, going faster, saving her small talk only for her best regulars, but still reassuring everyone that she’d be open tomorrow while the hearings brayed on the TV behind her.
Resolution 84 would reach the Assembly for a vote in the next few days.
CHAPTER 2
It passed.
How in God’s holy name had it passed?
Winnie shook her head, trying to make sense of the impossible thoughts still rolling through her head. The shop was packed with people, all trying to buy the last available magical housewares before midnight.
Winnie had extended her shop hours, hoping to keep people civil while customers fought over charmed items they thought they couldn’t live without after the ban. People were buying things she had never thought would sell — like that banana stand that kept the fruit at a perfect state of ripeness. People crowded the aisles like there was no tomorrow, which was true as far as magical sales were concerned. Any magical item not on the proscribed list legally purchased before midnight could be owned by a private citizen. That citizen must be prepared to pr
ovide proof of the date of purchase to the Red Legs, a detail that only added to Winnie’s workload. Everyone wanted a dated receipt from her.
She knew there’d be trouble after showing up to work with a line outside Charmed that stretched down the block in the small shopping district near the Enclave. The other stores here were owned by middlings selling mundane goods and services. Hers was the only licensed business selling charmed items in that part of the city, and it had brought in throngs of people she’d never seen before.
It was difficult. She and her mother had always served a local clientele and Winnie knew most of her regulars. This new mob of customers didn’t know her, and seemed to have little respect — most of them looked down their mundane middling noses on the chanter girl who sold them whatever magicked item they just had to have. On a normal day, she would’ve shown them the door. Mother had raised Winnie to respect herself, and to be proud of her heritage. Tolerating such prejudice now, just to tally the maximum sales before midnight, chewed at her pride like a mongrel dog with a year-old bone.
“Winnie,” a voice called from across the store. “I need you over here.”
She turned toward the sales counter and saw her friend Tris holding up a pair of salt and pepper shakers. She looked confused, and a bit haggard by the press of customers before her. Tristan’s usually neat curtain of chestnut hair was a sweaty mop across her brow. She hated crowds and preferred her day job working as a Charm Tech maintaining the old, massive buildings in the city’s center. Tris would trade this press of humanity for a nice and quiet magic HVAC system control panel anytime.
Winnie had known she couldn’t manage the crowd of last-minute customers on her own the minute she’d seen the waiting line, and had immediately called up every available friend. All showed to lend their aid, one right after the other. Tris had been the first arrival, telling Winnie she took the day off her own job as soon as she got the message. Normally shy, she had taken over the register work so that Winnie could focus on answering the inexhaustible barrage of questions from the endless press of customers.